


may ruin a human life

by PuzzledHats



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:12:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzledHats/pseuds/PuzzledHats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A kiss may ruin a human life.” -Oscar Wilde or in which Oliver kisses Felicity and she ruins him for everyone else :) - prompt courtesy of ohmypreciousgirl via tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	may ruin a human life

Oliver wasn’t quite sure when he put up the barrier between him and Felicity; probably somewhere between ‘I ran out of sports bottles’ and ‘we can protect her.’ But it doesn’t matter _when_ , what matters is that it stays in place. His life is a delicate balance, one that has to be maintained at all time, lest it all come toppling down.

Except, there is a soft snow falling, fluffy and innocent, settling in her hair, giving her an ethereal look. She has her tongue out, catching the flakes before she looks up at him, laughingly asking if he wants to build a snowman. There is something about her tone that tells him the question is some sort of reference, but he isn’t sure to what. Nor does he care to ask. She’s wearing red mittens and looking up at him through the dim streetlight, as if the only thing that matters is the snow; not the current drug trafficking ring happening in the city, not Isabel trying to take over QC, not the ever present fear of when Malcom Merlyn will come crashing back into their lives.

Just the slowly falling snow, blanketing the entire city in white.

He doesn’t think, just steps forward, cupping her face in his hands. He takes a moment, a breath; both of them do, because this is big—monumental. She moves first, going up on her toes to nuzzle her nose against his before her mitten covered hands grab the collar of his jacket, pulling him down, pressing her mouth against his. It’s soft, featherlight, but when she goes to step back, he follows her. He slides his hand around to the back of her neck, not wanting to let the moment end as he brings them together again. He brushes his mouth against hers before sucking gently on her bottom lip until she lets out a tiny, barely audible, sigh of contentment.

And Oliver knows that for the rest of his life, until the day he dies, that sound will haunt him.

The sound is everything Felicity is, even though his brain is having trouble deciphering why. But the sound gives him permission to forget, for a little while, about everything else. It allows Oliver to live in this moment with her, gives him leave to deepen the kiss, to move his arm around her waist, erasing any space between them. 

When they finally separate, he doesn’t let her go right away, just looks down at her as his thumb unconsciously rubs her neck. Her nose and cheeks are pink, snowflakes are melting on her glasses, undoubtedly impairing her vision and Oliver can’t help but exhale, shaking his head as he steps back.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispers, blaming the snow for his lapse in judgement.

She lets out a huff of exasperated air, shaking her head at him, rolling her eyes as she gestures with her mitten clad hand that they should finish walking the final block to the foundry. He’s not sure why she lets him off so easily, but he’s grateful.

He shuts the entire evening out. At times he is even able to convince himself it didn’t happen, that is was probably just a fever dream or some sort of delusion brought on by remnant side-effects of Vertigo.

He meets cute, petit, red headed Wendy at a fundraiser for the local animal shelter. She enjoys laughing, lets it slip that she is fascinated with fast cars and pulls him into the coat closet towards the end of the evening. All too happy to keep up his Oliver Queen persona, he goes along with it. Wendy’s kisses are sweet and insistent, hinting at a fun time if he explores it further.

Which he has no desire to do whatsoever, extracting himself about five minutes later because something is missing. Something isn’t falling into place like it normally does when a beautiful, willing woman is in his arms.

He is sure it’s just a fluke, decides something must have been off about Wendy. Only he can’t disregard the fact that Molly, Leah, Sam, and Mary, the next five women he finds himself with, also leave something to be desired. Something he’s having a hard time pinpointing.

Staunchly ignoring that he might be the problem, he makes a point of kissing as many women as he can over the next several months, sometimes even fucking them. Each time looking for a different outcome. But they all fall short, barely miss the mark, leave a hollow in his chest he can’t bring himself to examine.

Before he gives in and admits to being well and truly fucked, he tracks down Sara to where she’s held up in a decrepit hotel in Bangkok, far from the prying eyes of tourists. She’s on her one woman mission to bring down the League; something he doesn’t even bother to ask about the progress of when she opens the door.

She smiles up at him, the familiar chin dimple sending a shot of warmth through him as she says ‘Ollie’ like she’s actually happy to see him. He can’t help but smile, relieved to have found the last person in the world who will understand why he is there, what he needs.

Not wanting to waste time, just wanting confirmation that there is hope, he pushes her back into the room. Twisting them as they walk until he can push her against the closed door. Their mouths meet in a practiced way; Sara’s arms moving around his middle to keep him close, exactly what he’d been expecting, wanting. 

Kissing Sara had always been effortless, no thought or worry. Each able to read the other well enough to know what worked, what didn’t; the intuition only growing after the island.

Except now there is a slight itch in the back of his mind, an echo that looms over him, preventing him from giving in completely. Of course, Sara picks up on it. She’d always been able to read him better than anyone else, gently pushing him back as she brushes a finger over his brow, asking, “Ollie, what happened?”

The question brings to mind _her_ name, _her_ face, _her_ mouth, that _fucking_ sigh. Forcing him to close his eyes against the glaring truth of the moment as he steps away from Sara.

“Felicity,” he admits dejectedly, his shoulders dropping.

“Oh, Ollie,” Sara laughs, punching him lightly on the shoulder as she moves past him into the room. He turns to watch her rummage around in a trunk before pulling out a a bottle of vodka. She waves it at him as she collapses onto the tiny cot in the corner of the room, leaning her back against the wall as she gestures for him to sit next to her. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon passing the bottle between them. Sara telling him she knew this day would come, to which he could only grunt, taking another drink. He doesn’t remember who starts it, but before he knows it they are talking about how wonderful Felicity is; exchanging stories about all the times she’d accidentally turned them on.

“And she doesn’t even know it, Ollie,” Sara laughs as she grabs the bottle. “She doesn’t have a fucking clue.”

Oliver laughs along with her, talking freely about something that had been weighing on him for years. He waits until the bottle is two-thirds gone before he tells Sara about the kiss; not giving much detail, just snow, streetlights and mittens. It seems to be enough, because Sara nods along with him, patting his knee as he tells her about running away.

“It’s not really a second chance at life if you’re not living, Ollie,” she says sagely.

The truth behind her words is inescapable, repeating on a constant loop in his head as he drags his hungover ass onto a plane back to Starling City.

He texts Felicity when he lands, asking her to meet him at Big Belly Burger. She’s already there when he arrives, working on a milkshake as Carly fills her in on A.J.’s latest report card.

“How’s Sara?” Felicity asks when Carly leaves with their orders. He draws his eyebrows together, about to question how she knew that was where he’d been, but she laughs at his expression. “Come on, Oliver. If it’s on the internet, I can find it.”

“Right,” he smiles. “Sara is well. Said to tell you ‘hi.’”

Felicity nods, smiling at him, “Good to hear.”

Afterwards, he walks her home, enjoying the clean, crisp smell of the spring evening. 

“All right, I can’t take the suspense anymore,” Felicity says, pulling on his arm to stop him. “You know I hate mysteries. Why did you go see Sara? Is it about the League? Merlyn? Oh, wait, is it Slade? Is Slade back?”

“No, no,” he says with a small laugh. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“That’s a relief,” she says with a wave of her hand.

“I needed some advice. That’s all,” he says, grabbing her hand to tuck under his elbow as he starts walking again, forcing her to fall into step beside him.

“Advice? Non-vigilante advice? That you had to travel all the way to Thailand to get?” She asks. He nods along to each of her questions, watching her peering up at him out of the corner of his eye. “Was she helpful?”

He stops, turning to look down at her. Her expression is open and curious; no judgement, fear or censure. Only Felicity.

“She said I was wasting my second chance at life,” he says, his eyes dropping to her lips of their own accord.

“How are you—” her voice cracks as she attempts to speak, forcing his eyes to refocus on hers only to find she’d been staring at his mouth.

He steps forward, his body repeating the exact same motions he’d done so many months ago, only this time there isn’t any snow falling around them when their lips meet.

“I was thinking this might be a good place to start,” he says as he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.

“It’s about time,” she says, smiling.

He couldn’t agree with her more.


End file.
